


we were found (but now I am lost)

by Sunflower_Meadows



Series: I find you when I'm asleep [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Best Friends, Dream Smp, Dreams and Nightmares, Five Stages of Grief, Hugs, Swearing, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, TommyInnit Is Dead, no beta we die like tommy, oops that tag may be a little TOO on the nose, the healing process, there will be no crab rave, tubbo is going through the stages of grief, very small amount of comfort at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunflower_Meadows/pseuds/Sunflower_Meadows
Summary: Tommy is gone.He's...gone.Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. The five stages of grief.Tubbo is grieving, and Ranboo is there at his side to help him. They are quiet when they mourn, but they have each other.
Relationships: platonic - Relationship
Series: I find you when I'm asleep [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193216
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	we were found (but now I am lost)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK WAS INSPIRED BY THIS INSTAGRAM POST: https://www.instagram.com/p/CL85BkMFOQ7/?igshid=bmc0vk1hap9h
> 
> Disclaimer: I’ve learned about arc 3 of the SMP through osmosis, and seen clips here and there. Not everything may be perfect canon, so just prepare to suspend some disbelief. Tommy just has a really bad habit of tweeting spoilers immediately after his stream is over, so I sped through this after he tweeted about his death.
> 
> I'd also like to say for posterity’s sake that I started writing this on 3/3/21, so I just choose to ignore Tommy’s revival. I do not see it. This entire thing is based on the assumption Tommy is completely gone for good, and that Tubbo is mourning the loss of his best friend. (Edit 3/15/21: I have added a canon divergence tag.)
> 
> One more thing I should note is that this work can be read as a loose continuation of "lead me back to you", but can also be read as a stand alone. They’re set in the same world and timeline, but they’re not really “connected”. If you're interested though, please go check it out!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this big ball of angst with a dash of comfort at the end! This is somewhat based off of my own personal experiences with grief, so the portrayals within may not be accurate for everybody.
> 
> \- Meadows

It doesn’t register, at first.

It doesn’t feel real.

He’d held the body in his arms, there was even a blood-stained neckerchief that he couldn’t bear to throw away to prove it, but it just didn’t click. They felt separate in a way.

There is a grave with allium flowers planted upon it in the garden. Fact.

There is a green kerchief in his dresser drawer, stained dark. Fact.

Tommy is ~~dead~~ gone. Fact?

Tubbo sees him everywhere at first. In everything, in every moment they shared. He swears for a moment that a familiar voice laughs right behind him, but when he turns to look he is alone. He is always alone.

He almost hears the notes of a voice humming along when he sits on their bench by the cliffside, the melancholic notes of Mellohi drifting in the silence left by L’Manburg’s absence. He knows it should make him sad, that he should be crying by now or screaming or doing something useful like the others.

He can’t, though, no matter how hard he tries.

His eyes catch the alliums Ranboo had planted in front of Tommy’s house. Always alliums. Why? He can’t remember the reason, though he’s certain he knows the answer.

_He feels numb._

Sweaty palms grip his knees and he squares his shoulders through the rest of the song, eyes fixed on the sunset without really seeing it.

_He wants to cry, he does._

The tears won’t come. It doesn’t feel real.

* * *

He finally breaks during an innocuous moment.

It’s so stupid really.

He’d been getting side-looks from everyone for the past two weeks, even some knowing glances from Technoblade the one time he’d gone over to retrieve what was left of Tommy’s stuff from below the man’s house. A chest full of random items mostly, nothing too _Tommy_. Maybe it’s for the best.

His hands had shaken too much just putting the chest in his basement, let alone sifting through the contents. He’d been strong and productive so far, a silly old chest wouldn’t get to him.

Maybe it would’ve been better if he’d broken over the chest, where it would have at least been private, and he could have continued pretending he was fine to the others.

No, he would have been lucky to have it happen then.

* * *

It’s a sunny day when the Dream SMP holds a party in the untouched plaza outside of Old L’Manburg, just a little get-together to celebrate the completion of the Bee N’ Boo Hotel. Everyone was invited, though some people like Phil and Technoblade didn’t bother to show up. That’s alright, though, Tubbo never expected them to. Those two have been lone wolves of a type since they came to the SMP Lands.

He mingles around the party for a while, sipping the cup of iced tea in his hand and making small talk. Then, after Ranboo pulls out the sandwich carts, it really gets into full swing. Everyone’s talking, laughing, and having a general good time.

Then someone puts a disc in the jukebox, and Tubbo recognizes the melody. Mellohi! He smiles, and elbows Ranboo at his side. “Tommy loves Mellohi! He’ll be so excited!”

The people nearest to him freeze, and he can hear Ranboo’s breath hitch next to him.

_What?_

Everyone kind of looks at each other for a moment, and suddenly the air is strange. Wrong. It makes him nervous. The smile starts to fade on his face, becoming tremulous and unsure. “What? What is it?”

It’s Sam who speaks up, voice gentle like he’s trying not to spook a frightened animal. “Tubbo… Tommy’s gone.”

Then he remembers, and really, how could he ever forget? That’s right.

He’s gone.

_He’s gone, he’s gone._

That’s right.

His breaths are erratic, difficult for him to control as he feels himself start to unravel. No, not here, please. He’s been doing so good.

“Tommy…” Tubbo’s breath hitches in his chest, and he chokes on it for a moment. _Tommy…_

“Tubbo?” Sam takes a step towards him, hand outstretched as if to comfort him.

_Stop._

“Are you okay?”

_Stop it._

“I know it’s hard, can I do anything to help?”

_No. Stop. Don’t come any closer._

_Don’t, don’t,_ **_don’t._ **

Sam’s hand barely touches his shoulder, but Tubbo’s arm cracks out like a whip and smacks it away as he flinches backwards. Everyone in the plaza stops talking, seems to even stop breathing as tension bleeds into the air like ink through water.

Sam speaks up first, voice hesitant and low, like he’s speaking to something wild and dangerous. “Tubbo…?”

Tubbo stands there, shaking, nails digging crescents into his palms with the force of the bubbling fire in his veins. His face feels hot and were his eyes not shut, Tubbo’s sure he would be seeing red.

“Shut up,” he whispers, voice quiet with the strength it takes him not to lose it.

He hears Sam take another step forward, boots clicking against the stone. “What was that? I can’t hear you, Tubbo.”

He’s sure if he digs his nails in any deeper, he’ll start bleeding. The shaking spreads down to his legs as he exerts all his willpower to stay standing exactly where he is. His jaw tightens painfully, and he can hear his teeth creak. “Shut. up.”

Sam stops, too close, way too close. He can feel his presence there, imagine the way the tall man’s face wears an expression of pity to match that soft voice behind his mask. “Oh, Tubbo… I’m sorry.”

Tubbo’s not an angry or violent person. He can count on one hand the amount of times he remembers even feeling true anger, and even those events were limited to the times following the birth of a nation that was never meant to stand on its own two feet. The amount of times he’d felt this king of bone searing, blood boiling rage can be counted as once.

That one time is now.

He wants to scream until his voice is hoarse, wants to pound his fists into something until he starts to bleed, he just wants this feeling to be gone.

And Sam is. Too. Close.

With an almost inhuman snarl of pure hatred he’s off his feet and on Sam in a blink. Cries resound around him in surprise and shock, but he pays them no mind. He’s hitting, biting, scratching at every inch of the surprised man below him on the stones.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! Don’t say you’re fucking sorry! You could have helped him! You had every power to go and save him! You were the only one who could and you just left him there! You left him with Dream, and you have the fucking nerve to say you’re _sorry_?!”

Blood splatters on the ground, and hands are grabbing at him, trying to pull him off. In his haze of red he barely even notices that Sam isn't lifting a finger to defend himself, simply laying there on his elbows with his head turned away, taking the abuse. Tubbo struggles against the arms dragging him back, digging his nails into any flesh he can find.

“It’s all your fault! It’s your fault he’s gone, you don’t get to apologize! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Tubbo’s crying now, and his throat protests his screams as he throws his weight against the arms holding him fast to someone’s chest.

Sam doesn't say anything, but Tubbo can see tears running down his cheeks.

“Stop it! Stop crying! You don’t get to cry, you bastard! I hate you! Stop it…” Tubbo starts to shake again as his rage drains away to the forgotten floodgate it came from, leaving him empty again. Hollowed out, fragile. “Stop…” He sobs.

Sam just murmurs again, unable to meet Tubbo’s eyes, “I’m sorry…”

Everyone else is silent.

Tubbo lets Ranboo drag him away.

* * *

Ranboo doesn’t take him back to the hotel, even though he asks. His arm is firmly set around Tubbo’s shoulders despite the ender boy’s noticeably taller stature, not saying a word about the awkward lean. In fact, Ranboo doesn’t say anything at all the entire trip back to Snowchester.

Tubbo’s a little thankful for the silence. He doesn’t know how he would even begin to talk about what just happened. He actually doesn’t think he could, even if he tried. Tubbo just feels empty inside, like a pot without any tea in it. Like a hive without honey or bees. Carved out, just a shell of a person walking around and pretending to be normal.

He only begins to protest when he notices Ranboo is leading him towards his bedroom in their house. “Ranboo! It’s like, noon! I can’t go to bed now, there’s still work to do!”

Ranboo’s arm tightens around his shoulders as he replies, “You’re tired, Tubbo. I can tell.”

“I’m not! I’m fine! C’mon man, what about the hotel?” Tubbo is almost pleading now. He doesn’t know what to do if he’s not working, doesn’t know what he’ll start thinking about. He doesn’t want to think. “Ranboo, please!”

Ranboo manhandles him through the door, surprisingly strong for such a thin boy. “You’re not going to work today, Tubbo. Not if I can help it. You need rest.”

“But I’m not tired!”

Ranboo looks down at him knowingly, though the eye contact doesn’t last too long. “Aren’t you?”

They’re inside the room now, and Tubbo catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Ranboo’s right. He looks exhausted, worse than even when he began his short presidency of that doomed nation. Dark bags that look like bruises blossom under his drooping eyes, and he notices that he buttoned his coat wrong today as well. Everything about his appearance screams ‘haggard’.

_Is that really him?_

It’s true, he hasn’t been getting much sleep these days, but he didn’t know it was getting this visible. He looks at Ranboo again, and notices the slight pinch between his eyebrows before the taller boy looks away, a pinch that tells of worry. It’s a pinch he knows well, one he’s seen many times in the mirror before.

His shoulders slump in defeat, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Alright, fine. I’ll take a nap if it’ll make you happy, Ranboo.”

Ranboo’s awkward stance loosens in clear relief, hands falling to his sides as he smiles at a point just over Tubbo’s shoulder. “Thank you. It will.”

Tubbo hopes he doesn’t dream.

* * *

He doesn’t get his wish.

He knows he’s dreaming almost immediately when he sees the Camarvan in front of him. He knows he’s dreaming when Tommy, decked in a familiar blue and red uniform, comes barreling out of the van and nearly knocks him over into the grass.

_Tommy._

He can't stop the tears from falling as he whips his head around just in time for his best friend to grab his hand and start pulling him past the wall ( _black and yellow, not obsidian,_ he notes) with a gleeful cackle. As he’s dragged forwards across the field, he hears Wilbur’s voice ( _sounding younger than he ever remembers, voice not colored with madness or naivety_ ) shout, “Tommy, you _gremlin child!!!_ Get back here!”

The shouts fade away as Tommy drags him, grinning wildly, into the woods past the wall.

Tubbo finds himself caught in the moment despite himself, breathless as he asks, “What did you do?”

_He can’t stop staring._

Tommy rolls his eyes, ducking under a low branch as he nearly runs into it. “Aw, he’s just pissed I borrowed all the speed pots again! What a massive dickhead, getting all stuffed up about a few pots here and there!”

Tubbo finds himself laughing for the first time since… For the first time in a while. He can’t help it. Tommy has always been able to make him laugh, no matter what. “How many did you even take?”

“Only like, a stack.”

Tubbo breaks into helpless giggles, and has to stop to catch his breath, laughter fading out into a weak, “Tommy!”

His best friend waves a nonchalant hand (not the one Tubbo’s still tightly clinging to, he notices faintly) and puffs up his chest, “Whatever! If he’s gonna be such a pussy about it, he should just make more!”

Tubbo grins and rolls his eyes. “C’mon man! You were like this with Techno too, with the golden apples! What are you, a magpie?”

The response comes half a second late, and it sounds so far away when Tommy says, “...Golden apples?”

The boy’s appearance seems to shift in and out between a few eras all at once, showing dull blue eyes and Wilbur’s trench coat, then the classic t-shirt and kerchief, and worst of all for a brief moment: _blood, red, so red, empty eyes staring at nothing, pale skin, bruises-_

Then Tommy is gone, and the forest is dark, and Tubbo can see a thin spire reaching up into the heavens just past the trees. Its silhouette is backlit dramatically by the storm, seemingly swallowed by the black clouds so high up in the sky. Lightning flashes, and he sees a dark figure standing on top but he. _Can’t. Move._

Limbs like lead, struggling through molasses, Tubbo fights his way to the treeline only just in time to see Tommy fall.

“ **_NO!!!_ **”

_Wait. This isn’t how it happened. Tommy didn’t jump._

The menacing spire is gone now, stormy clouds replaced with clear skies, and he’s in a boat. The waves gently lap at the sides, and he can smell the salty froth of the ocean on the wind. Tommy is rowing in front, looking determinedly forward off the bow, though his tight grip on the oars bely his nerves.

Tubbo remembers this day too.

Tommy is saying something, and Tubbo tunes in to hear, “-but we’re optimistic!”

That’s right, Tommy had spent the journey trying to boost their morale, ease their nerves. Try to make the looming threat of fighting Dream seem so much less, seem fine. Or maybe he had just been trying to convince himself.

Tubbo knows the dialogue, the script, he’s gone over this day ( _the day which set it all off_ ) so many times over the past few weeks. First when Tommy was stuck inside That Place, and then when Tommy was...gone. He couldn’t help thinking it all over, what he could have changed, where it all went wrong. He could play along with this conversation if he wanted, relive it, fool himself into believing.

But he won’t. He can’t. He can’t let himself hide, hide from the truth he needs to know.

So he deviates. “Hey Tommy?”

Tommy slows the oars for a moment, stalling them as he turns his head to Tubbo. “Yeah, what is it Tubbo?”

His throat is dry, and his voice rasps on the way out as he asks, “Was I…” He forces the question out through his teeth, eyes burning fiercely as he holds back tears. “Tommy, was I a good friend?”

He wants to believe he was, he does, but… Everything that happened, everything that went wrong tore them apart so easily. The election, the exile, the fall of L’Manburg all put so much strain on them. Their friendship frayed like an old thread, barely hanging on, but he _tried_ so hard. He really, really did.

He always thought they’d have more time.

Tommy fully turns around in the boat, and Tubbo sees now that he’s no longer the Tommy from the day of the fight. He looks oddly pristine, wearing an unwrinkled and untorn version of his classic shirt, his exposed flesh devoid of scars Tubbo knew should be there from the many wars they’d fought. His manner is different, too, calmer in a way Tommy has only ever been in the time before they formed L’Manburg.

Peaceful, unworried. Free.

“You know I can’t answer that, Big T.”

He flinches back. “W-What?”

Tommy snorts, and pats Tubbo’s knee. “Well I’m not really real, am I? You and I both know that, big man. I would if I could.”

“I- I- I didn’t-” Tubbo starts to choke on his words, pressure rising in his throat as those tears from before threaten to fall. “I know, I just- I never got a chance to make it better, and-” He has to bite his lip then to stop it wobbling so much as his hands clench and unclench in his shirt.

Then arms are wrapping around him and something in Tubbo shatters right then and there. He fragments and breaks into a million razor sharp pieces, irreparable and small. He’ll never get to hug Tommy again, never get to speak to him like this, to enjoy his presence in a way he’d always taken for granted. The knowledge of this fact cuts him to ribbons, shreds him mercilessly until he’s almost unrecognizable. Scarred hands grasp tightly to a white and red t-shirt, pulling Tommy desperately close as Tubbo wails.

“God, you’re so fucking clingy Tubbo. Cry it all out, you big pussy.” Despite the harsh words, Tommy’s tone is heartbreakingly fond, and warm hands pat his back comfortingly even if they are a bit stiff. Tubbo chokes on a sob. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it. My shirt’s getting wet, y’know.”

Tubbo’s next words are wobbly and quiet, barely able to be heard over the gentle sound of waves lapping the hull of their boat. “I know, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I can take it. A little bit ‘o water never hurt anybody, least of all a massive man like me.” Tubbo doesn’t have to look to know Tommy’s face is smug, the way it always is when he boasts. Was. The way it always was.

He’s quiet, but suddenly this Tommy feels hollow in a way, a fake mirage his mind has made up. It’s not his Tommy, no matter how much he wants it to be true.

And yet. He has to say it. He has to say it now, before he loses his chance yet again.

Even if this Tommy isn’t real, even if his Tommy is gone, Tubbo has to say the words he never got to tell Tommy before. Before their time was cut short.

“I love you, Tommy.” He grips Tommy’s shirt tighter, face buried in the taller boy’s chest so he doesn’t have to look at the expression fake Tommy is making right now. “You’re my best friend, the best one I’ve ever had, and I love you so much.”

There is a moment of silence, and then, impossibly soft: “I love you too, Tubbo.”

* * *

He wakes up with tears on his cheeks.

Shoulders shake in the low light of the moon, rumpled sheets clutched to his chest in white-knuckled hands as he imagines it’s still Tommy’s shirt, that he can still smell his best friend’s distinctive scent of apples and rain.

“Tommy… Tommy,” he murmurs softly, shutting his eyes tight as he burns that dream into his brain before he forgets it. “What will I do without you?”

A gentle breeze comes through his open window, rustling his hair and caressing his cheek with cool air.

_‘Be yourself.’_

His own words come back to him, from that day in Dream’s terrifying underground lair, the advice he’d given when he was the one supposed to die. When it was him leaving for the last time. Maybe he and Tommy were never meant to be happy. Maybe they were never supposed to be free.

They had sins to pay for, weights to carry that never belonged to them, not truly.

He wanted to believe once in a future where they were fine, and the sun shined down on their favorite meadow every day, shoulders unburdened by the world others crafted around them as they laughed. A future where they didn’t have to be Theseus and Atlas, where they could just be themselves. Where they could just be Tommy and Tubbo, and never have to worry.

Now they’d never have that sunny day.

He takes a deep breath, letting the cool night air freeze his lungs, and breathes out regrets.

It’s only when he sits up so he can get out of bed that he notices Ranboo slumped tall and thin in a chair by the door, soft breaths indicating a state of sleep. Tubbo can’t help the small smile that slips onto his face. Ranboo must have been waiting for him to wake up. His eyes catch white bandages trailing beyond the boy’s shirtsleeves, and his heart pangs with guilt as well.

_He did that._

“Sorry, Ranboo,” he whispers into the quiet of his bedroom, trying not to wake the ender-boy. “It’s not fair of me to lean on you so much when you’re dealing with this too.”

His smile curdles, and he dips his head to look at his hands in the sheets, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You can lean on me, Tubbo. You don’t have to do it alone.”

His eyes snap back up to see Ranboo looking at him with eyes half-shut, sleepy as the older fights back a yawn.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up! I must have been too loud, my bad-” Tubbo feels an embarrassed heat rise to the tips of his ears, rubbing the back of his neck as he laughs, trying to push this weird tension he feels away. He just doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel like himself, still a little lost in that dream.

“No, I’m just a light sleeper, don’t worry.” Ranboo looks more awake and nervous now, avoiding Tubbo’s eyes like the plague. _Oh, right, enderman._ Tubbo averts his gaze, aiming it at the moon outside.

“Well I’m sorry anyway, I know you don’t sleep very well even without me waking you up for no reason,” he says, tossing the sheets off so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna, uh, go to the hill. You can come if you want, or go back to sleep.”

Ranboo stands up only a second after Tubbo does. “I’m coming with.”

Tubbo smiles wanly at his roommate, unable to muster much more than that. He feels drained, empty, tired. “Thank you.” _For everything. For staying with me, for helping me, for stopping me from getting stuck in my head._

The unspoken words reach across the room like a hand and Ranboo must notice them because he takes Tubbo’s in his own and responds easily, “Any time.”

Tubbo’s throat closes up and he nearly chokes on the gratitude rising in his chest like the tears forming in his eyes. He blinks them away and squeezes Ranboo’s hand tightly with all the thanks he can’t find a way to say.

On their way out, Tubbo takes a moment to retrieve the green kerchief from his dresser drawer, holding the grimy material in his free hand. Ranboo notices it, but doesn’t make a comment. Tubbo is grateful for that, he doesn’t think he could explain why he takes it even if he wanted to.

The snow crunches under their feet as they walk out to the garden, the silence comforting where it had previously been unnerving. It’s peaceful now, enveloping him like a blanket, the cold refreshing instead of paralyzing. It just seems...different.

They stop in front of the cobblestone grave (Tommy’s favorite building material), and Tubbo notices now that Ranboo has secured yet another allium from somewhere. This one is cut off neatly at the stem, and Ranboo lies it carefully in the snow in front of the grave.

He steps back to Tubbo’s side after a second, hands stuck deep in his pockets. “Y’know, I gave him an allium the first time we ever talked? He insulted me right after, but he kept it.”

Tubbo glances at Ranboo out of the corner of his eye, but Ranboo isn’t looking at him, just the flower in the snow. “...I didn’t know that.”

Ranboo laughs, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, most people don’t. I don’t think it was important to anyone but me, I don’t think Tommy even remembered it.” He shrugs, a wry smile twisting on his face. “That’s okay, though. Since it’s my fault for helping him do the thing that eventually brought his...demise.”

Tubbo can’t even muster a flinch at the word, but manages to shake his head tiredly. “No, no. If it was your fault for that, then it was my fault for exiling him over it.”

Ranboo shifts his weight. “Maybe it was all of our faults. We all failed him in some way, y’know?”

Tubbo doesn’t say anything to that, but Ranboo’s right. He looks down at his hands, trembling in the cold. It’s everyone’s fault.

_We failed him._

Ranboo cuts through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter. “Hey, Tubbo, do you know the meaning of an allium?”

He blinks, shaken. “What?”

“Do you know what alliums mean? Like in bouquets.”

“No?”

There’s a moment of silence as he hears Ranboo take a deep breath, the fog swirling away into the air in his peripheral vision. “They mean patience. Kind of funny that I keep planting them for Tommy, huh?”

Tubbo can’t help but huff out a breath of laughter. “Yeah, a little bit.”

_Patience, huh?_

He looks down at the neckerchief clutched in his hand, and makes a decision. He steps forward, and places it down next to the allium. Purple next to green, on a backdrop of grey and white, the contrast stark and eye-catching.

It’s a melancholy sight, but the burden on his heart seems a little lighter now.

_They’re gonna be okay._

**_He’s_ ** _gonna be okay. Someday, and that’s enough._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the story! I figured that since the first installation in my hug-centric DSMP universe was happy, this one should be sad. I'd also like to share the fact that I named the google doc I wrote this in "(s)pain and grief" so if that doesn't say a lot about the flavor of this work then I don't know what does.
> 
> I hope everyone felt in character, it was a bit of a struggle for me!
> 
> Please leave a kudos or comment if you liked this, or even drop a comment if you didn't! I try to read them all and respond if I can, so if you have any questions drop those too! Have an amazing day, everyone, and remember to drink water!
> 
> \- Meadows
> 
> (Edit 3/15/21: I’m toying with the idea of continuing this with the idea of Tommy coming back either as he did in canon, or as Phantommy. Does that sound like something you’d like to see?)


End file.
